“My heats?”

Oh God. That absolutely hadn’t crossed my mind yet.

“Yes,” Dr. Carter explains calmly. “Usually, a shifter going through puberty will experience less intense heats—we call them ‘juvenile heats,’ to be exact—meaning they won’t last the full ovulation cycle and won’t have the same level of, ah, need.”

“Need?”

“Need to, um…copulate.”

“Oh fuck,” I groan.

Dr. Carter gives me a small smile. “Precisely.”

I might laugh if my entire world weren’t tilting on its axis.

“So…what do I do in the meantime?”

She considers this for a moment. “I’m going to prescribe you some hormone regulators, but the dose will be very mild. Just enough to alleviate some of your symptoms. We don’t want to interrupt your body’s cycle of change, after all. I can also get you something for the nausea and cramps. Other than that…I would strongly suggest that you spend the next few weeks or so at home if at all possible. I can’t predict exactly what other symptoms you might experience while your body adjusts to the new hormone levels, and being around other shifters might make things more uncomfortable. Shifting isn’t permitted inside city limits, but I can get you a doctor’s note explaining your condition in case there are any unplanned incidents. Otherwise, there are several nice heat clinics on the edge of the city, where you would be able to shift comfortably. Normally, you would need to schedule weeks in advance, but again, I can get you a doctor’s note explaining your special circumstances.”

My mind whirls. Unplanned shifting? Heat clinics?

“I can’t hole up for weeks,” I argue. “I’m here for a job.”

“Any chance you could work remotely?”

“I’m a contractor. I do renovation for cabins and lodges and such.”

“Ah. That’s a pickle.”

“It is,” I remark dryly.

“Well, I obviously can’t force you either way,” Dr. Carter says. “I can only suggest. But I would keep a close eye on your body. You don’t want to overexert yourself.”

“But the meds should help, right?”

“A little,” she says. “As I said, we don’t want to medicate you so much that your body can’t process the change it’s going through. This is a natural thing. For the most part, we just have to let it run its course.”

Perfect, I think. Just perfect.

“Okay,” I say with a nod. “Okay. This is fine. I guess…if you could get me those prescriptions you mentioned, I can deal with the rest.”

“If you have any more trouble, don’t hesitate to come back in, okay?”

“Sure,” I answer, knowing that’s unlikely. The jobsite is almost two hours away. I won’t have time to pack up and head out every time I get a cramp. “Of course.”

“Right. I’ll get you those prescriptions before I release you.” She starts to turn toward the door but pauses, giving me one last concerned look. “Oh. One more thing. It’s very unlikely, but I should mention that you should steer clear of alphas.”

“Alphas?”

“Another secondary designation,” she tells me. “Their pheromones, like yours and mine, are stronger than your average shifter’s. Being around one might wreak havoc on your system—could even possibly trigger a juvenile heat if you’re compatible enough.” She shrugs. “It’s probably a nonissue. They are also incredibly rare.” A small, strange smile touches her lips. “But then again…you never know.”

I watch her go, still stuck on pheromones. Nothing about any of this feels like real life.

I check my phone when she leaves and see that my brothers have responded to the group text, asking if I landed okay. It takes all I have not to laugh at that. I am definitely not ready to have this discussion with my family. I don’t even know what I’m going to say to my brothers when they drive in to join me on the job at the end of the week.

The job.

I groan. I’m still expected to show up at the small ski lodge this evening—a little place just up the mountain, near the town of Pleasant Hill. The woman I’ve been speaking to, Jeannie, seems nice enough, and I can only hope she won’t notice if I have to escape to the bathroom to deal with an influx of cramps or sweating or God knows what else during the next few weeks while I oversee the renovation.

I laugh dryly.

At least things can’t get any worse.

“Made it to Nowheresville yet?”

In hindsight, I probably should have let Ada’s call go to voicemail. It’s only been a couple of hours since the nice doctor at the ER informed me my entire life was changing, but since my best friend is like a shark smelling blood in the water when it comes to sussing out my moods, I doubt I can keep any of this from her for long.

“Almost,” I tell her, slowing for a stop sign. “It’s really off the beaten path.”

“Never a good sign. That’s how you get axe-murdered.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m not going to get axe-murdered.”

“That’s what every person who gets axe-murdered thinks. No one wakes up thinking, ‘Oh, today I’m going to get axe-murdered,’ but then, before you know it, you’re human firewood.”

“I am officially putting you in time-out from those true crime podcasts.”

“You’ll change your tune when I keep you from becoming human firewood.”

“How about we stop using the term ‘human firewood’ when I’m this close to a secluded ski lodge that I’ll be staying at by myself until my brothers fly in?”

Ada snorts on the other end of the line. “Thomas and Chase are in more danger than you are. They’re pretty, but they don’t have the same hardware upstairs as you. Kyle might stand a chance.”

“Hey, now,” I laugh. “That’s not very nice.”

“I’m kidding,” she says. “You know I love those big lugs. But still, there’s a reason you’re the brains of the operation and they’re the muscle.”

“And cameraman,” I correct, thinking of Kyle.

“And cameraman,” she agrees.

“How cold is it there?”

“Somewhere between frozen toes and cracked lips.”

I can practically hear her shudder. “No thanks.”

“Definitely a far cry from Newport.”

“I’ll think of you while I’m on the beach later,” she says with sympathy.

“That makes everything better.”

“Obviously. How are you feeling? Did you end up going to get checked out?”

I bite my lip, considering. Ada would understand. I’ve never asked for the ins and outs of what she is, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t picked up bits and pieces over the years. I’m…not ready to tell anyone yet. Not when I haven’t figured out my own feelings about it. I’m already half panicking enough as it is without her hysterics added to the mix.

“I feel better,” I tell her. It’s not a complete lie. I do feel better after taking the meds Dr. Carter gave me. “Not dying, at least.”

“Just make sure you get checked out if you start feeling shitty again. It sounded like you were really suffering when I talked to you last.”

“Maybe I ate something bad,” I offer, knowing that’s not the case. It could be a possibility though, in an easier turn of events.

“Have you heard anything back from HGTV?”

“Not yet,” I sigh. “They said it could be a couple of weeks.”

“Yeah, well, they’d be stupid not to green-light the show. You haven’t had a TikTok fall under a million views in months.”

“My brothers are optimistic, but…”

“You’re the worrywart.”

“That’s me,” I laugh. “It just comes down to the fine print. I don’t want to jump into anything that’s going to make our job not fun anymore, you know? I don’t want to totally be beholden to their whims.”

“I get that,” she says. “What does your dad think?”

My hands tighten on the steering wheel, my jaw clenching. With everything happening today, my problems back home are the last thing I want to discuss.

“I don’t know,” I tell her honestly. “I haven’t told him about it yet.”